The Mirror of Erised
by Currently Dating Spike
Summary: MI/HP Crossover. NO CHARACTERS FROM HP, just the mirror. Set after the kiss in the seelie court, Clary stumbles across a mirror that shows her hearts desire. Lemon in the last chapter.
1. Your Hearts Desire

**For my wonderful reading buddy, who always encourages and supports me, despite the fact that I'm a little crazy, and that I think Jace is a real person, no matter how she tries to convince me otherwise.**

**An MI/HP crossover. There are NO CHARACTERS FROM HARRY POTTER IN THIS STORY. Just the Mirror of Erised. Clary/Jace.**

Clary couldn't sleep. The Institute at night was utterly silent. In light of recent events, Clary's mind was already spinning, and the eerie soundlessness of the atmosphere pressed on her ears in a manner that banished any thought of sleep. The scene with Jace in the seelie court kept flashing across her eyes every time she closed them. The vivid memory of Jace's lips against hers was so real she could almost taste him. She rolled over restlessly, getting tangled in her bedcovers. She shouldn't think about Jace that way. She _couldn't._ He was her _brother_, her blood kin. She was fairly sure that, centuries ago, people had been executed for doing less than what they had. It was incest, it was _unnatural_. And yet, infuriatingly, she couldn't bring herself to be disgusted by it, as anyone else surely would be.

Clary tossed again. She was too awake, too hyper. Just the thought of Jace made her feel hot and uncomfortable. With a sigh, she sat up, and thrust the bedcovers away. Shaking curls out of her face, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up. Her soft breathing was the only sound. She crossed the small guest room and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her.

Burning torches in brackets were spaced along the walls, illuminating the narrow corridor. Clary was slightly surprised; she had expected it to be pitched black. The flames flickered across the polished wooden doors of the other guest rooms.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, taking her past the closed doors. She wandered the identical corridors aimlessly, letting her feet take her where they would. She was almost in a trance, not exactly aware of what she was doing. She thought she had been walking for about fifteen minutes when she noticed that the part of the Institute she was in had not been occupied for what seemed like a long time. The walls were blank and dirty, with no doors, windows or even the carvings that seemed to be everywhere. The cold stone floor was thick with dust, Clary's footprints clear against the filth. Clary kept walking until finally the passage ended. She was facing a dead end.

_Nice, Clary,_ she thought to herself, _way to get lost._ She wasn't lost of course; she could easily follow her footprints back to a corridor she recognized. Cursing her pointless actions, she turned to do just that, when she noticed something from the corner of her eye. She turned back again.

The door on her right was exactly the same dusty colour that she hadn't noticed it before. It was made of very weathered, pale wood. At first, Clary was reluctant to tough it. It already looked as if any moment it would fall off its hinges. But she figured that if she had come this far already, she may as well see what was in this room that everyone so clearly avoided. Stepping forward, she pushed the door open and went inside.

The room looked just as abandoned as the corridor outside it. Cobwebs hung thickly from the ceiling, covering the rafters in a grey sheet. It was completely empty, except for a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet in the corner. It was as dirty as the rest of the room; there was a barely legible inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _

Clary frowned, staring at the strange words. It didn't look like Latin or Greek, or any language she'd ever seen. She looked harder. _Erised_. The word looked familiar, but she wasn't sure how. It was something to do with the letters.

Desire. Erised was desire spelt backwards. Fascinated, Clary stepped closer, examining the end of the inscription. But this time, she read it backwards.

_I show not your face but your hearts desire._

Clary smiled bitterly at the irony. Desire would be familiar to her, for sure. She was sick of it. _If she doesn't desire his kiss, she won't be free, _the queen had said. And she had desired it. More than anything she had ever desired before.

But then there was the question of why the mirror was down here. Was it broken? Pushing her pain away, Clary stepped in front of the mirror.

Her scream was not heard or answered. She whirled around to look behind her. She was alone, faced with nothing but blank stone wall. Slowly, she turned to face the mirror again. In light of the inscription, what she saw was painful, but entirely expected.

There she was, pale and dishevelled-looking. Standing next to her, with his arm around her shoulders, was Jace. He was smiling at her. The mask of arrogant sarcasm and sardonic humour he usually wore was gone, replaced by an expression of true happiness. She had never seen him so utterly defenceless, the walls between them gone. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling rapidly over her cheeks and falling softly to the floor. _It's not real,_ she told herself, trying to push back the mixture of joy and agony that she felt. The Jace in the mirror reached across and brushed away her tears, tightening his arm around her shoulders. He lovingly kissed the top of her head. She glanced sideways, to the place where he should have been standing. The moment she looked away, the phantom arm she could feel around her was gone. A sob wrenched its way from her throat as she turned back to the mirror. She could feel him again, feel his non-existent body heat, his loving touch. She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Tears were dripping from the end of her nose. Her tiny frame was shaking with sobs. Jace pressed his cheek to her hair, brushing away her tears with his free hand.

If the institute had not been so deathly silent, aside form her own crying, Clary would never have heard the soft brushing noise coming from the doorway. Her head whipped around, only to see the room exactly as it had been before. _Church._

Clary turned back to the Jace in the mirror. Her sadness intensified at the thought of leaving him. "I'll be back," she whispered, "I promise." Jace smiled at her again, bending and kissing her cheek. Ducking out from under his arm, Clary crossed the room, heading for the door. She could have sworn she could feel the tearing separation as she left a part of herself in the room, with the mirror, with Jace. That piece of her that would always belong to him.

Following her own dusty footprints, she made her way back to her room, stifling her sobs as she went.

**Now, people, you have to review and tell me what you want here. In the next chapter, should Clary and Jace act like Clary and Jace, or should I just throw reality to the winds and make them 'hook up,' so to speak? This story is about giving the masses what they want. The majority vote wins. **

**Oh and by the way, the next chapter probably won't come out for a while, what with So You Think You Can Dance Australia and House coming back on, as well as the whole 'Back to school' thing. But if I get enough reviews I might hurry up a bit. ;) Please review!**


	2. Come With Me

**For my running partner, who shouldn't feel bad, because I'm glad she pushed me. I've never been able to run the whole 12 minutes without stopping before. If I hadn't gotten sick and had to be taken home, I would never have written this for something to do, and I would have had to go to double Maths. That's worth getting sick. If you live in Australia like me, please, for your own good, DRINK WATER, at least during this massive heatwave.**

Clary slept badly that night. She drifted in and out of consciousness, the piercing golden eyes haunting her dreams. She woke up sweating and panting from nightmares. She couldn't remember what they were, but she felt certain that Jace had been there.

_Jace. _Her stomach turned over. How was she going to handle seeing him, every day, knowing that he was what she wanted most in the world. _The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. _How true. She had no intention to tell anyone about the mirror. Selfishly, she wanted to keep it for herself. Surely, if the others knew about it, they would spend hours, sitting in front of it, gazing at their hearts desire. Clary would never see her Jace again.

She needn't have worried about facing the real Jace the next day, however. He, Isabelle, and Alec went out to track down a demon somewhere in the subway. They were gone all day, and Clary only came out of her room for meals. She felt high and jittery, and slightly nauseated. All day, the want, the _need _to get back to the mirror tugged at her. All her thoughts swirled around it, looking forward to when she would look into it again, and find Jace, a Jace that belonged entirely to her. A Jace that loved her.

It took her no time at all to find the mirror that night. She almost ran down the hallways in her haste to be with her Jace again. When she finally reached the battered old door, she pushed it open with a sigh of relief.

The mirror was still there, dusty and magnificent, standing abandoned in the corner. Clary sprinted across the room until she was standing in front of it, her hair tangled and her skin flushed. She didn't care, however. Her Jace greeted her with a happy smile. As soon as she saw him, all her stress and tension evaporated. She exhaled, her knees buckling. She sank down onto the floor, stretching her legs in front of her. He sat beside her, curling his arm around her and pulling her closer. She snuggled into his side, loving his warmth, and met his eyes in the mirror. He was looking at her softly, adoringly, as if she were the only real thing in the world. As though she were _his. _His own, his beloved. She returned his gaze, earning herself an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

They sat like that, side by side on the cold stone floor, for a very long time. Their eyes never left each other. It was as if they were locked in their own private world, a world where that were free to love each other, in whichever way they wanted. A world where their feelings for each other were not a sin, but a blessing. Clary felt blissfully happy, and yet at the same time her heart was being ripped apart. It was such a confusing mixture of emotions, and it seemed the only way she could be content was in front of the mirror.

"Clary?"

She looked around so quickly that her neck cracked. The arms around her disappeared.

Jace was standing in the doorway, in his blue pyjamas with the hole in the sleeve, looking ruffled. Church was rubbing himself against his legs.

Clary scrambled to her feet, startled, and was about to take a step forward, then hesitated. No. She couldn't leave the mirror. Slowly, she turned back to it. Her Jace was standing beside her, his hand stroking her hair, completely oblivious to the real thing behind him.

Behind her, Jace snorted. "Gee Clary, there's a mirror in your bathroom if you want to admire yourself all night. I had no idea you were so obsessed with yourself."

Clary ignored the jibe. She did not take her eyes away from the mirror. Now Jace, the real Jace, knew about it too. And yet she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt nothing but irritation at her brother, for interrupting something so important. "Leave me," she said shortly, not even bothering to look at him.

Whatever response Jace had been expecting, that was not it. "No, I don't think I will," he drawled, but there was a hidden catch of surprise, and even hurt behind his sarcastic tone. Nevertheless, he walked over to her, regarding her curiously. "Why are you staring at yourself?" he asked.

"I'm not," Clary replied, not elaborating at all. She didn't care if she sounded crazy, she was telling the truth. She wasn't staring at herself. She was staring at her Jace, who had his arm around her, gently stroking her cheek.

The real Jace stepped closer, now looking at the mirror. Clary could see him reflected behind her, so different from the boy who was holding her. So distant. "I've never seen this before," he mused, gesturing vaguely towards the object of Clary's obsession. He looked at the inscription, and frowned. "That's not Greek or Latin," he said. "It's not a language I've ever seen before." He gazed at it for a few more moments, before realisation dawned on his face. He had obviously worked out the meaning behind the words. What Clary could not understand, however, was his reaction.

"Clary," he said sharply, "Get away from there!"

Clary ignored him, still gazing lovingly at the Jace who existed only in the mirror. She felt a hand close tightly on her arm, so tightly it was painful. It jerked her away from the mirror with irresistible force. An unexplained fury rose inside Clary; how _dare _he try to separate her from her Jace? How _dare _he? She yanked her arm viciously, but Jace didn't let go. He dragged her towards the door. Adrenalin seared through her veins, the blood rushed to her face, she struck out at Jace with as much force as she was capable of. Her nails raked across his neck and the side of his face, welling blood. She raised the arm that he was still gripping and sank her teeth into his fingers. He shouted in pain and let her go. She put both her hands on his chest and pushed him away from her as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards and slammed against the wall.

She glared at him, breathing heavily. She turned her head, with out breaking eye contact, and spat out his blood. Hatred pulsed through her, making her head spin, tinting her vision with red. Jace looked at her. His expression was a mixture of pain, shock, horror and sadness. As he looked at her with his wide gold eyes, Clary snapped back into reality, and she realised what she'd just done. She felt horror similar to his own spread across her face.

"Jace, I didn't … I mean, I…" she was at loss for words.

"Clary," Jace said softly, standing up straight. "I need you to come with me."

"I don't …" She was confused. Why wasn't Jace shouting at her?

"It's okay, Clary," he said soothingly, as if he could read her thoughts. "You need to come with me. Come on."

Clary took a few hesitant steps forward. Jace reached out and gently, but firmly, took her hand. He led her out of the room and shut the door behind them before she could glance back at the mirror.

Jace didn't say anything as he led her back to her room. He kept her hand in his, as though he were afraid she would turn and run back. Even now, she was intensely aware of their contact. She kept her gaze on her feet, still feeling deeply guilty and mortified. She couldn't understand what had come over her, or why Jace was so calm. As they were walking along the corridor of guest rooms, she finally glanced up at him. She gasped loudly.

Blood was running freely down his neck from four deep gashes. The collar of his pyjamas was stained scarlet.

He looked at her, surprised by her outburst. "What?" he asked.

Clary could hardly say the words. "Your … face …" she choked. Jace raided his free hand and ran his fingertips along the side of his face, then held his crimson-stained hand in front of his face. "Wow," he said in a low voice. "You should really cut your nails sometime Clary."

Clary held her own hand In front of her face. In the weeks since her mother had been kidnapped, she hadn't managed to get her hands on a nail clipper. Her abnormally long fingernails were tipped with scarlet. "I'm so sorry, Jace," she said softly.

He opened the door to her room and pulled her inside, closing it behind her. Finally letting go of her hand, he walked into her bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. "Where's your stele?"

She blinked in surprise, then went to get her mother's stele from her bedside table and handed it to him. "Thanks," he muttered, then set to work tracing an _iratze _on the side of his neck, just behind the cuts. He stopped and looked at his hand. The crescent shaped wounds where Clary had bit him were dripping more blood. Clary groaned. "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

Jace shrugged, finishing the rune he had started. "It wasn't your fault," he said mildly.

Clary's face twisted in disgust. "Not my fault," she repeated sarcastically. "_Right._"

"It wasn't," Jace insisted, handing the stele back to her. He went and sat down on her bed, then stared at her pointedly. Hesitating, she sat down beside him. After a few moments, she looked up at him. He was gazing at her expectantly. His wounds were already closed over. She sighed. "What was that?" she asked.

"The mirror of Erised," Jace said. "I've never seen it before, but I've read about it. When I read the inscription backwards, I knew what it was."

Clary frowned. "Why did I do that to you?" As if he would know better than she did.

"The mirror shows us what we want most in the world," he began. "It becomes an obsession for those who first see it. People have wasted away before it, been driven mad, wondering if what they see is real, or even possible." He looked at her. "You can't go looking for it again."

Clary nodded fervently. "That still doesn't explain why I attacked you," she pointed out.

Jace looked thoughtful. "The mirror is very dangerous. I had no idea that it was here. I was taking you away from what was, essentially, your hearts deepest desire. You must have been pretty obsessed, because taking you away from it was so painful, and it made you so angry." He looked at her. "You weren't in your right mind. You didn't mean it. I probably would have done the same thing, if it had been me."

"I would have come off rather worse than you have," Clary predicted, still ashamed.

Jace smirked. "Probably," he agreed. He was still gazing at her with an intent, curious look on his face.

"You want to know what I saw," she guessed shrewdly. Jace blinked, then nodded.

She paused. It was a very personal issue. He already knew she felt for him. But the deepest, most desperate desire of her heart? He had no idea that it was him. She opened her mouth to tell him that it was too personal, then stopped. She had lied to Simon, to Luke, to the Lightwoods, to everyone. Now would she lie to Jace too? She looked at her hands, examining the freckled across the knuckles. "I saw you," she whispered. "You were with me, and you were happy. You weren't hurting anymore. We were together. It made me sad at the same time. But I was obsessed. I found it last night, and I went back because I had to see you again."

To her own ears, her words sounded jumbled. In a twisted way, she had just told him she loved him, but nothing had come out right. Then again, nothing was right when she was with Jace. She took a deep, shake breath, and looked up at him. His expression was unfathomable. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and stroked her cheek, just like the Jace in the mirror had done. Her eyelids drooped involuntarily for a moment, then snapped open.

"You should go," she whispered.

Jace's mouth twisted in pain. His eyes were incredibly sad, almost lonely. He got up and walked over to the door. "Goodnight, Clary," he breathed. The door swund shut behind him.

"Goodnight, Jace," Clary said softly. Slowly, she laid down and buried her face into her pillow, muffling her desperate, heart wrenching sobs.

**It never ends well for these two. It was best that they both acted like the characters they are. If you want to read about them making out, well, there are plenty of other FanFics for that. This is the last chapter, sorry it ends in heartbreak, but there will be no more.**

**You don't have to be a member to review. PLEASE, I'm begging you, if you have read this, just write a tiny, two-word review to tell me what you thought. I deserve it for running for 12 minutes non-stop and writing such a big chapter.**


	3. Choices

**First of all, I want to say how touched I am that people have still been reviewing this story. Huge thanks to all those reviewers. I am SO sorry that I hardly ever write, but I'm incredibly lazy, and I lack motivation. I promised in my latest story (for which I admit to the shameless copying from Buffy Season 3) that I would write a fic in which Clary and Jace get together, but in a very touching, loving, well-written way. And as I was fantasizing about Jace last night (we all know what that's like) I came up with an idea. So, I'm continuing my favourite story, and everyone else's favourite, it seems. Thankyou again to everyone who takes the time to review my stories, I dedicate it all to you!**

**The above A/N was written last year, when I was trying to write a sequel, but lacked motivation. I'm going to try again. Major lemon at the end of this chapter.**

For Clary, the next few days passed in a haze of sorrowful resignation. No matter how hard she tried, no matter where she was, her thoughts always slid to Jace, her eyes following him as he, Isabelle and Alec drifted in and out of the Institute, often returning late in the evening, filthy with blood and dirt. The polite silence between them was a mutual recognition. They would not act on their feelings for each other, yet they acknowledged that those feelings existed. Knowing that Jace shared her pain made it somewhat easier for Clary, but she was still sick with worry every time he left the Institute, knowing there was a chance he would never return to her. She watched him, she spoke to him pleasantly enough, but there was always a tension in the air between them, a tangible electricity. And always, always, his guard would slip for just a moment, his burning look of desire as he passed her, his eyes raking over her as though he would devour her, then and there. Hot shivers ran up her spine, her insides burned with lust, but her expression was blank, unreadable. And for the most part, so was his.

"That's it!" Isabelle announced, throwing down her spatula and dumping the frying pan in the sink. "You can all starve."

"Great," Jace said, hopping of his chair. "I'll go order Chinese. Don't do anything interesting while I'm gone." The door closed behind him.

Isabelle turned to Clary. "Is it really that bad?" she asked, her eyes wide. Clary looked down at the scrambled eggs, which was emitting evil smells and looked like pus, and tried not to wrinkle her nose. "It's an improvement on last time," she offered.

Isabelle sighed. "One day I'll cook something and they'll love it."

"You work on that," Clary quickly agreed.

Isabelle, rolled her eyes before moving to sit down next to Clary. "So," she said.

"What's up with you and Jace?"

Clary's breath caught, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. Had they been that obvious? She tried to speak normally. "What do you mean?" she said, but her voice shook ever so slightly.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. "I mean," she said, "what's with you two avoiding each other all the time, and the weird looks?"

"I think you know," Clary said quietly, lowering her eyes.

Isabelle stood up. "Have you ever heard of discretion? Look it up." She flounced out of the room, just as Jace came back in. He quickly saw that they were alone, and was about to turn around, but Clary's voice called him back.

"She knows."

"What does she know?" he said insolently.

Anger stirred inside her, and she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from screaming at him. "Stop playing games," she said harshly. "You know exactly what I mean."

In one fluid, graceful movement, Jace crossed the room and stood in front of her, arms crossed. His wide gold eyes were full of self-hatred, his mouth twisted in pain. Clary felt her anger melt away in a heartbreaking pity. "I'm the one playing games?" he said mockingly, and Clary was taken aback by the slight quaver in his voice. "I'm not the one dancing from side to side, never deciding what I want!" The words tumbled from his mouth, as if he could hardy stop them. "One moment you look at me, and you want me, and then you look away as if I never existed!" His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, still staring at her.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more in the world than to smooth the hurt from his face, to stroke the curling blonde locks back from his forehead and hold him, to tell him he'd never have to be alone again. She felt the ache of it in her chest, and reached for him, her eyes burning with tears. "Jace-"

"No, Clary, _you _listen." He stepped back and uncrossed his arms. Clary's arm fell limply to her side. "I want you to stop looking at me. Stop looking, stop talking to me, unless you mean it."

She sucked in a breath. "Jace, I can't-"

"Then don't." He turned away, and she felt it like a slap in her face. She ached to run after him, to throw her arms around him and hold him, and promise him she'd never let go.

"Jace!"

The door closed behind him.

The Institute was eerily silent. Clary was uncomfortably aware of the sense of déjà vu, as she lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her chest seemed to ache whenever the thought of that conversation with Jace. She could not erase the memory of the look on his face, the hurt behind his eyes.

The image of the mirror swam before her eyes. He was what she wanted most on the world, the person she loved more than anyone else.

_Your brother, _she reminded herself fiercely. But it was useless. He didn't feel like her brother. As she thought of him, she thought of his face, his look when he'd told her to _stop_ looking. As soon as the thought entered her head, she knew she never would.

She sighed and rolled over, drawing the blankets up to her chin and trying not to cry. Her longing for the mirror had not faded after Jace told her what it truly was. She dreamed of going back. She spent sleepless nights imagining sitting in front of the smooth glass. But the Jace in the mirror had never existed. In this world, Jace could never be hers. Never.

The finality of this fact was like a death sentence. To live the rest of her life without him, who she loved so much, the pain of if was nearly unbearable, and her chest ached in physical pain. By God, she wanted him. If it was the death of her, she wanted him.

It was almost surprising when Clary suddenly found herself walking the shadowy hallways of the institute like a ghost. It was less surprising when she stopped in front of Jace's bedroom door.

She held her breath for a moment. _What the hell are you doing, _her mind screamed at her. She reached for the handle and gently pushed it open.

The moonlight streaming from the window was remarkably bright, bathing the room in silvery shadows. Jace had obviously crashed, lying sprawled on his back, on top of the covers, fast asleep. He hadn't even been bothered to take off his jeans.

Clary closed the door behind her and stepped closer. The room was utterly bare, and spotlessly clean, but for his shirt, which he'd tossed on the floor.

Clary padded closer, until she stood at the end of his bed. She was mildly amazed that he hadn't woken up yet. The silvery glow of the moon cast a soft light over his face. He seemed restless, even in sleep. Clary longed for her sketchpad, imagining tracing the lines of his face, his chest…

The sharp longing which had drawn her to him mounted inside her, and she took another step forwards. Before she could even realise what she was doing, she crawled up onto the bed.

Jace awoke immediately, his head snapping up. She was already beside him, leaning over him, watching his face.

"Clary," he said, shock in his voice. He sat up, taken aback. "What the hell are you doing?"

She put a finger to his lips, and leaned closer. Her body pressed to his, and in that single moment, her body seemed to combust.

"Making a choice," she said, and roughly kissed him.

He pulled away, leaning back. "Clary-"

"Stop it," She hissed. She could here the passionate urgency in her voice, and her fingers dug into his jaw, pulling him back. "Just kiss me."

Without giving him any time to answer, she pressed her mouth to his again, and wound her free arm around his waist, shoving him closer. She was not gentle; the desperate need inside her allowed no room for tenderness. She revelled in the feel of his smooth skin under her fingers, the hard muscle underneath. He was perfect, and she wanted every part of him, all at once. She kissed him again, deeply, urgently, throwing her leg over his hips.

A moment passed, and suddenly Jace's arms were around her, pulling her against him, hard. His lips were as urgent as her own, and Clary tightened her legs around his hips, grabbing the hair at the back of his head in a vice-like grip. She yanked his head back and kissed him again and again, attacking his mouth, biting his lips until they were swollen and sore. His strong arms pulled her harder against him.

Clary's mind was utterly blank, powerless to the desires of her body. She felt no shame when Jace ripped her shirt over her head and grabbed her roughly, forcing her onto her back, only blind passion which overrode everything else. She locked her legs around his hips as he kissed her with equal ferocity, raking her lips with his teeth, running his hands hungrily over her chest. They were locked in a passionate wrestling match, almost fighting each other. He tore his mouth away and turned to her neck, the sensitive skin beneath her ear, biting, licking and sucking every inch of bare skin he could reach. The feel of his bare torso pressed to hers was unbelievable. Clary could feel every one of his gasping breaths against her body, the soft hardness of his chest rising and falling against her. She tipped her head back, raking her hands up his sides, not even thinking of whether her nails were cutting him, lost in the feel of his mouth of her neck, his skin against hers, the weight of his body between her legs.

It was like a drug, an addiction. The more Clary loved Jace, the more she craved him. Something in the back of her mind clicked into place, like a lost part of her soul, finally returned to her.

And as Clary loved Jace, the word _brother _ceased to exist.

**Okay, I'm proud. Thanks for reading, and there will be NO MORE. Sorry, that's it. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but there were so many begs for another chapter, and I had the idea in my head, and I REALLY want to put of my IST and History assignments. Damn, I should get onto those.**

**I feel a little like I've failed with the make out scene. It feels like watching a porn movie. I tried not to be too descriptive, but hey, it's my first ever make out scene. It could be worse, I suppose.**

**Also, there was an old fanfic of mine which I took off, but I'm going to redo it a little and put it back up. Please, if you like my writing, watch out for it. It's my first original story. Well, one that wasn't based off an excerpt, anyway. Well, can you really call any fanfic original?**

**Please, feel free to flame. I'll thoroughly enjoy flaming you back.**


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